


Drinking Damnation

by CaptainRivaini



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Gen, Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRivaini/pseuds/CaptainRivaini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Eleanor so many years to realize that Max's kisses taste of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. smells like trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a few years before the 'Pilot' of Black Sails where Eleanor and Max are two very different people from the people we see on our screens.

She's so very new to this. 

Eleanor knows that they know too, the men and the women of her father's fine establishment watch her with eyes that are both keen and wary, as though in spite of her womanly virtues (if she spoke plainly) they also know she is her father's daughter, and if they want their pay...

They will damn well listen to her, or face the consequences.

Vane will protect her, but she knew only for so long before he grew tired of the threats from her father, and her increasing disinterest in him as a paramour when in hindsight all she can think of is running this place and proving her father wrong - that she didn't need protection, not even Vane's, all she needed was herself and where was the problem with that?

Mr Scott, her trusted friend since an early age, led her towards the back room where she was immediately seated in front of the desk in a position where she was unseen both from the outside window and the opened door of the tavern, a shield if one was to think of it in that sense, or perhaps armour.

Introductions were then made; prostitutes that Mr Scott had told her would be under her service formed a line in front of her desk and told her their names, the services they would and would not do and their age. It all seemed reasonable enough until it got to the last woman and instantly Eleanor felt as though a sharp knife was being prodded into her back, her awareness heightened to an extent she couldn't help but stare at the young woman in front of her with suspicion.

"Name?" She enquired with her lip already caught between her teeth, anything in order to remain composed as her mind raced with what could be wrong with this woman in comparison to the others she had seen.

The woman tilted her head downwards briefly before she looked right back up at her, a smile on her face that made Eleanor's insides wriggle even as she tried to keep the calm, collected façade that Mr Scott had advised her when she had first stepped foot in the tavern that was to be her own.

"Max," came the reply, the accent rich and yet not at all out of place on Nassau, in fact it was she, the wealthy Guthrie daughter that seemed more out of place with her voice than this prostitute did and once more Eleanor had to swallow her discomfort and look hard into the eyes of the prostitute staring down at her from above her desk.

_'Max'._

She doubts that's her real name but nods her head anyway, turns to write her name only to be stopped by a hand that does it for her, writing quickly and sharply with long, fine penmanship that made Eleanor pause and watch until Max was done writing, placing the quill back in her hand and moving forward to press a kiss to her hand before she bowed and went to depart, like the others.

Eleanor tried to regain her thoughts, startled by the sudden affection and how those jarring moments she couldn't find ground, instead slipping and stumbling like the English girl (born and bred) she was trying so very hard to run from in sitting in this chair at the back of the tavern.

Mr Scott looked at her as if he was waiting and before she knew what she was doing she sat up straight, and answered his unspoken question.

"Did I dismiss you?! I don't remember doing so," she called over to the departing prostitute, 'Max' abruptly halting to address her over her shoulder with her brown eyes narrowed and that same sly (if somewhat amused) smile on her face that did nothing but urge Eleanor on. "Back here, now."

Max's smile grew wider until Eleanor could see the pearly whites of her teeth and before she knew it a small, mirthful laugh filled the small room.

"Welcome to Nassau,  _Miss_  Guthrie." Were her departing words and again, before Eleanor could do anything more, she was gone and the door behind her swung shut with a  _bang!_

Her immediate reaction was to get up but Mr Scott placed his hand on her shoulders, dark hands rubbing calm circles into her skin to gently ease her back down into her seat even as words of frustration and anger bubbled up her throat to escape through her pale lips.

"She-"

"She's Max and she is one of ours," he replied with his own laugh, and again she's speechless and lusting for words that don't come as childlike fear and excitement make a toxic mix within her, grounding her unlike before with her eyes refusing to move away from that closed door and in retrospect, the woman that had just slammed it shut, "there's no reward for you in getting angry over every slight, there are battles you win and there are battles you lose."

Eleanor bit her lip, "even from the people who work under me? That's fuck-...that's ridiculous!"

"Quite." He said and took a chair to place it next to her desk, hand drawing the documents over to his side whilst the other reached for a quill. "Now come, some of the ladies here have terrible penmanship and I'll need some help looking this over."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the abrupt change of subject Eleanor did as she was asked, the hand that Max had kissed tingling as she worked.


	2. Vane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get out of hand.

It's easy to be charmed by Vane when she ignored everything else around her, the brutality for one and the rampant ignorance another. She can be charmed, and Eleanor allowed herself to be so.

He brought in the most load for her on the third month of her running her father's establishment, and she can't say she isn't intrigued by how much he keeps bringing in and how despite their being numerous whores the only thing he can keep an eye on is her. 

She knew before that Vane was a paramour of hers, she just had no idea how serious it was. 

Once he kissed her hand and it tingled much like it had done with Max, but that hadn't led to any confusion, only a curiosity that burned at her and spurred her forward until she could find her feet and learn the ways of a pirate and how (thanks to Mr Scott also) to manipulate and use them to meet her needs.

Vane as a paramour seemed laughable to Mr. Scott, but his laughter was bitter and full of resentment against the brutality that came with Vane's presence and the body count he left behind.

Eleanor found herself not caring either way, she was not going to be the victim and if that meant the protection of someone who equally intrigued her and made her skin crawl, then who was she to stop the political shit known as destiny?

Speaking of destiny...

"She's unwell," Max told her , a look of boredom on her expression that told Eleanor that Destiny had definitely done this before and she was tired of retelling the tale. 

Eleanor arched a brow, leaning forward with her elbows scraping against the fine wood as she did so.

"Sick?'

For some reason or other that seemed to amuse Max as soon enough a warm, rich laugh left her and she nodded slowly, "aye, sick. Sicker than a dog  in truth mon cheri."

Part of her didn't truly want to know, but a stronger, more reliable sensation takes place there and Eleanor silently praised herself in keeping a straight face when she answered. "I don't pay people who don't make money for me, make sure she's aware of that before she takes this day off completely."

Max had bitten her lip, a general sign that she wanted to say something, yet she remained silent and when she left Eleanor was glad of it, that prostitute was too much of a distraction for her when she should be doing work.

A brief ruckus at the door made her glance up however to see that a large, hunkering form known as Vane had brushed Max aside completely, sending her stumbling only slightly before she regained her balance and went on her way. No doubt muttering in the same foreign tongue Eleanor had heard her use in times before.

Still, the smile of Vane at the door made her roll her eyes and fight a smile all at the same time, her attention stuck on the scrawls of writing in front of her.

"Coy does not suit you Miss Guthrie," he drawled as he swaggered towards her with hand on his sword and another twirled a dirk in his hand as though it was nothing more than a toothpick. "Neither for the company of whores."

"Their good for business, you know that," she argued, unable to keep her eyes away from the glinting dirk in the room she sat in that continued to spin and spin as Vane swaggered towards her, "though they won't be if you keep harassing them, you twisted bastard."

His lips raised into a grin, he seemed to like it whenever she dropped away from the roots of the England soil she had originally come from; liked her all hard and roguish and the soft demeanour that she no doubt had had before all this, not there at all.

And the way he looked at her? She didn't know why she couldn't keep talking like this, say fuck this, fuck that, talk like a man to be respected as one which was sadly how she would get anything done around here considering the brigands that stumbled their pathetic selves inside her tavern, stubborn as mules and with only half their wit.

Mr. Scott had told her that, and he was the most intelligent man she knew - how could _he_  be wrong? 

A rough, calloused hand grabbed at her jaw and with a gasp of surprise she was forced to look up, eyes wide into the light of his own hues - not shocked at all to see that what was there was in fact a look that made a shudder travel down her spine and a growl (this time instinctual, rather than for show) escape past her lips.

"This isn't the time Vane," she told him, eyes narrowed whilst the hand that was wrapped around her quill tightened, "Unless you've come here to give me news on shipments, then I have no other use of you."

It was in the way he smiled at her then that made her wary, alas not so that when he tightened his grip on her jaw (which caused a sharp stab of pain there) and she felt her bones click in such an unpleasant way she couldn't help but gasp, her eyes watering even when that grip of his loosened and she could move her neck freely.

"The..." She started to say but was cut off by his index finger on her lips, silencing her completely as he curved the tip of said finger over the bottom of her lip.

"There will be plenty of use of me Miss Guthrie," he murmured, the husk of his voice taking a hold of her in such a way she could hardly breathe in his presence and the emotion (this lust?) she had originally felt started to dissipate at a faster rate than expected, "for now my use will be that of..."

A knock at the door and Eleanor tried to hide her sigh of relief at the sound of it as Vane muttered angrily under his breath, giving her more than enough reason to straighten in her chair and clear her throat, signalling with a quick shout that she wanted the person in question to come inside.

The door creaked open and Max with her dark, curly hair pulled up into a bun now strode inside with a strength and confidence - straight past Vane - that took Eleanor off guard in such a way she found that her head was pressed against the back of her chair and her eyes were wide and alert as she took in the way Max stopped right in front of her desk, eyes full of something which she couldn't quite decipher. Not just yet.

Vane took that as reason to make his leave and merely sniffed the air haughtily as he turned, bidding her a quick goodbye over his shoulder with a tone that suggested that this was far from over between them.

Eleanor tried not to look too relieved and instead adopted an annoyed expression with the woman in front of her, lips pursed. "What is it? I was busy back there and..."

Max interrupted her, just like (to Eleanor's frustration) Max always did. "He talks to you like a dog, and treats you less than one."

Max didn't even give her time to say anything before she was already moving towards the bowl of warm water Eleanor hadn't thrown outside just yet, the prostitute grabbing the towel she had left on the side and dabbing the corner of it in the bowel with a haste that Eleanor didn't truly realize what was happening. Right up until she saw Max press a small kiss to the material before making her way back over and pressing it to the skin just below her jaw.

"And he cut you with his ring," she also said in way of explanation that made Eleanor's first instinct to knock her hand away from her falter completely, replacing it with complete stillness apart from how her eyes continued to flicker to and fro, "so small, I hardly noticed it. But it is there..."

Eleanor didn't know how to react, all she could feel was how tense she had become under Max's touch and how the urge to fight back (to show her she was not weak, she was not the pure blooded English girl who cried for father, she could be strong) had simmered down to only a steady burn at the bottom of her stomach.

It only flared up slightly when Max laughed and continued to dab at her face. "English blood on my hands. I feel like I've fucked the king by just touching you, maybe I have, Englishmen come here all the time but..."

The flare grew brighter and it caused words to spill from her, faster than she could stop them. "Just finish up and get out - I don't pay you to stand around and talk to me, do you understand me?"

The prostitute's eyes lit up with surprise and her upper lip curled at the slight of aggression, however as Eleanor was finding out little by little Max only seemed to find her shield of defence as amusement rather than anything close to insulting or frustrating. It showed especially well in the little twitch of a smile that Eleanor just about caught.

One last dab of the towel against her face and Max dropped it with a flick of her wrist at Eleanor's feet, scoffing at the wide-eyed look she received. "You do not pay me to clean after you either."

Eleanor swallowed deeply once she had left and picked up the towel with a grunt. _"Fuck."_

There had to be something done about Max.


	3. a new problem, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new problem arises, and of course Eleanor finds that Max plays a part like any other thing that goes wrong on Nassau.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just another reminder this takes place in Max and Eleanor's early years.

"She's a nuisance."

"A damn fine nuisance," Noonan said with a lick of his lips and a shrug of his shoulders, "one that brings in money to this place , so with that you can't bloody complain can you?"

Eleanor bit her lip. She was still new to bargaining but if she was to get better, she knew she would need to get into the practice of it.

She also knew that Noonan was right and that Max did bring money in here, more than most and he did have a point that with that argument up against her she really did not have anything against the prostitute.

Hurt pride didn't count really, and she was better than to sink to a new low of getting rid of Max because of it.

With that at the front of her mind she  withdrew a step, head tilting up  slightly in order to show Noonan that there was not one ounce of damaged pride in her face. She was the victor, not him and it would be best not to let him think any differently.

"I withdraw my request," she told him, unable to say much else before she departed quickly with Noonan muttering under his breath at her back.

She didn't own the prostitutes around here, most of them worked outside in tents with conditions that staggered Eleanor into disbelief, unable to believe it was real for them to be working in these conditions in the first place  when disease plagued Nassau.

Scott met her as she walked out, stopping her with a look in his eye that caused her to fall to a standstill.

"Good news?" She asked, unable to keep the hopeful tone from her voice which all in all faltered at the sight of his one solemn shake of his head. "Is there ever any fucking good news around here?"

That made Scott grin, pearly white teeth stretched across a broad mouth. "When in Rome Eleanor, but for now? No. We have a problem on our hands and it includes our involvement in helping Noonan with this place."

Eleanor bit her lip and rolled her eyes, reaching around Scott to grab the nearest alcoholic beverage on the counter. She ignored the disappointed sound and continued to hers and Scott's private room at the back of the tavern, knowing well that Scott wouldn't leave her be even with her foul mood.

"Ignoring the matter will not help us Eleanor," she heard him say as she sat down in her large armchair, drink still in hand, "Noonan wants more than his given, and he wants it soon."

Eleanor snorted. "This place is just sand and shit, not anything worthy another large amount of money. The fact father thought this was a good place to deal boggles the fucking mind."

Scott clicked his tongue at her with clear disapproval and took the drink from her hand, setting it back down on the counter next to her with a grunt and brow arched: "it does not mean we can sit around and ignore him. The prostituting he does is dwindling, too many are dying and losing out profit for him and us? We're his last resort and he knows it."

"The women are dying?" She asked with a whisper, turning in her chair to face him fully, face set in stone. "What of? Disease?"

There was no other reason she could think of , apart from maybe the ferocious lot of pirates that she served her information to, but with the hard look on Scott's face (that told more stories of piracy than either of them were willing to admit) it seemed unlikely.

Scott answered her with a nod of his head, moving to take his own seat next to her. "They perform their art in the streets Eleanor, the same s treets full of mud and water and waste. Is it any wonder women are dying just in our backyard?"

Eleanor brushed a hand over her face, groaning in exhaustion at the complete absurdity that had been thrust upon them. "And Noonan still expects us to pay him more for keeping us here?  The half-witted bastard must think I'm an idiot."

"He thinks of you probably less than you him, but be reasonable Eleanor..."

She didn't know what the hell reason had to do with this, especially with Noonan and his demands but before she could state so, a sudden idea had sprung to the front of her mind  and it took the form of the one annoyance that had been bugging her since she  had  arrived.

She met Mr. Scott's eyes and her lips curled into a displeased expression. "I need Max. I have a feeling she's more knowledgeable on the matter than all of us put together."

* * *

Max arrived quicker than Eleanor had expected, thus it was highly frustrating in that she had barely started dabbing on the cut Vane's ring had left her when Max appeared, all flowing silks that left little to imagination.

She could see why Max was so popular, that was for sure.

But that wasn't drew the prostitute here and after silently scolding herself, Eleanor dropped the towel back in the bowel and laced her hands together .

"How are you not getting sick?" There was no point in beating around the bush, even more so once she considered how sneaky Max was with words in the first place. "Mr. Scott has informed me your colleagues, for lack of better words, are dying like flies out there."

From the look that crossed Max's face she had a feeling she wouldn't be getting the full answer and held up a hand. "No bullshit, I don't own the prostitution that goes on here (Max smiled, pleased that Eleanor had admitted to her own mistake previously) but I won't have you lying to me without consequence - so think carefully."

Max's smile was still intact. "So the English girl realizes she's a mere squatter here," and as if to take the edge off the darker woman shrugged with a pout of her lower lip, "do not take offence Miss Guthrie, we are all squatters in Noonan's 'palace' here. As for your question..."

The other woman put a finger to her lips, tapping the bottom in order to look as though she was pondering before she sighed and addressed Eleanor with a tilt of her head: "I am not sick because I am lucky, as for my luck it is because I am not stupid enough to take my business into a place such as the tents Noonan has set up for us."

Eleanor was still searching for words when Max curtseyed mockingly, the sardonic nature of her smile not lost in her expression: "Do I have permission to go?"

"You have permission to help me in sorting out Noonan's fucking mess," Eleanor told her, getting up from her seat with a sigh of annoyance, "considering you're the only prostitute of Noonan's that I've seen and conversed with since my three months of being on this shit sand and dirt they call an island that makes you the only person I can turn to in this matter."

A grin made Eleanor falter in her steps and Max's husky voice filled the silence between them, drawing blue eyes down towards the silk gown that showed more skin than a little. "And what payment does Miss Guthrie expect from Max?"

Eleanor wouldn't lie in saying she wasn't tempted, but Max was also (to her own befuddled mind) manipulative and insolent in a way that...

That intrigued her. 

"Not to be a pain in my arse," was her response as temptation dissipated (Vane could sate her enough, what more did she need from a prostitute?) and she rested her hands on her hips, "and...No just that. Come on, follow me."

She patted the woman on the shoulder, signalling that she wanted Max to follow her.

"Where are we going?!" Max called after her, rushing to keep up with the blonde black marketeer, "you request my 'elp but when I talk of payment and actually 'elping, you..."

Eleanor grabbed Max's hand and led her through the thronging crowds of Noonan's tavern, slapping away hands that tried to grab at them both with a frustrated noise as she ducked and swerved until they were at the entrance of the damned place, something she was very glad to be leaving.

Turning to Max, Eleanor simply gave her a smug smile. "We're going to fix this fucking shit-hole, and to do that you need to take me to your 'tent'. I'm sure that won't be  _too_  hard for you."

Max rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, "and 'ere I thought all English ladies were as dull as anything else on this island, but follow me Miss Guthrie. Follow Max."

And Eleanor did so, a new hope causing her walk with a confidence that made her hips sway.


End file.
